My parents were ready for the challenge, and they laid out the upcoming course of treatment. Mom knew her life was about to change and that Dad had one hell of a fight on his hands.

I was stuck though, even when I was busy covering a Tennessee baseball team that was playing in Omaha. Nothing felt right. I kept having flashbacks to all the great times we had, while wondering if we'd ever get to have them again. Not many folks knew, the few who did were my best friends, who I could confide in, knowing it wouldn't make the rounds. So, as my father was going in every day for treatment, I was just trying to put one foot in front of the other, not knowing what each day would bring or what the daily prognosis would be.

By the way, if you want to see what love looks like, just think of my parents. Not every day was good during this process, but my mother turned into superwoman, and she has taken care of my sick dad.

There was one day around my birthday in late June that gave me a jolt of energy I wasn't expecting. I was talking to my father, trying to give him the latest updates on his team, staying away from the cancer talk as much as possible because he had heard it often enough. Before we hung up the phone, he said something about being ready for the first home game. Now, this caught me off guard a bit, because I have seen what this horrible disease does to people. I honestly didn’t know if my dad would make it, which scared the shit out of me. How could I go through a season of college football without my dad either sitting below me in section T or talking with him over the phone about how his team had played?

Him telling me he'd be ready for the first game was the kind of fight I needed to hear out of my dad. Now I could at least hope that this horrible disease wouldn't take him away from us. I wasn't done yet. I needed more time. I needed more games. I need more opportunities to walk down the bleachers and sit with him and my family. I just needed more.

So, though he has finished his treatment and begun to try to gather his life back, it has taken time. He still can't taste anything, and he gets pretty tired often, though it's much better this month. He's trying to keep his weight up by drinking protein drinks that replace meals. Since he cannot taste anything, he doesn't want to eat anything. Hell, I don't blame him. But the most encouraging part of it all is that he's fighting. He fought through two months of non-stop treatment. He now battles different problems every day, but he doesn't complain.

I keep reflecting on him telling me he'd be ready for the first game. That gave me hope, but it also showed me how much he knew that would mean to me. He wanted to be ready to experience Neyland again, to see his favorite team run through the "T" and have his son come down from the press box to hang with him in the 3rd quarter.

If it weren't for the college football opener, I don't know where my mind would've been, probably still in the smog of trying to picture my dad not being here. I told him last week while he was in Knoxville that I didn't know if we'd ever get to experience those moments again, and yet we were watching a football game at the time. He stood up from the chair and came over to me for a big hug, and there was only one thing on my mind.

Thank you, College Football.

I-65

A Battle With Cancer And A College Football Bond